While You Were in a Coma
<Chapter Eleven>
<The Rules>
All right, he had to admit that he did learn the steps from the class before (let's not talk about the finesse of his movements right now) and although he was paired up with Ginny he didn't have as horrendous an experience as he had expected. But these weren't reasons enough to be back in Dancing class on a Sunday! Wasn't there a wizard law against enforced dancing on a Sunday?! So there he was again, back in the multipurpose classroom with the other eleven students, Hermione included of course, reviewing what they had seen last night before they could begin with a new topic.
"As promised, we are going to enter into the Waltz. So to start we'll need a rope..." The confused gazes of the students after Professor Trelawney's weird proclamation, was answered after she transfigured a rope and levitated it parallel to the straight line of students, just a few inches below their heads. "Now you need to go underneath the rope but without ducking or bending at the waist. So that means that you step forward with your left foot at 'one', bending at the knees to clear the rope. When you are beyond it, you straighten your knees and step with your right foot to the side at 'two' and draw your feet together at 'three'. This is called the 'rise and fall' of the Waltz and we need to get comfortable with it. So on we go children and one-and-two-and-three..."
This exercise was a more complicated for the students to do. On Harry's part he was having a hard time coordinating the bending of his knees. They probably spent double the time mastering it.
"We are halfway to the Waltz, now we are going to practice the Left Box Turn; it consists of 4 half boxes, and with each new half box partners pivot ΒΌ turn to their left..." She stopped when she saw the utterly perplexed looks she was receiving. "Don't fret my children, for the many ways of divination all had foreseen your trouble with this step and that is why I am well prepared movendi pasus," and with a wave of her wand, magical brightly coloured footsteps appeared in front of each student, pink for the girls and blue for the boys. "As soon as you give your first step the footprints will begin moving according to the rhythm. All you have to do now is to follow them. Now, pair up please!"
Ginny was already in front of him even before Trelawney finished, while Harry was still gazing at the pair of blue footprints sparkling at his feet.
"Get into yesterday's practiced positions..."
Harry's memory started working as his hands moved automatically to his partner's shoulder blade.
"Ah, Mr. Longbottom, your predestined change will take place at this moment..." Harry was only half-listening to Trelawney's babble (as accustomed with everything to do with her) as he replayed the difficult steps they had just been thought. "...It has been deemed you will do better with different person...Mr. Potter?"
"I am not dancing with Neville!" Harry responded hotly after hearing the last of her sentence, his mind still confused with numbers and turns.
"I was not referring to you I assure you," Trelawney answered, her mystic voice getting tense with each word she spoke. "What I meant is that if you would trade partners with Mr. Longbottom."
"Oh..." Harry intelligently answered after blushing furiously for his stupid mistake and for another unknown reason.
"But Professor..." Ginny, who appeared to be the only one of the two couples who could still put two words together, interjected.
"Don't worry, Miss Weasley, the stars don't lie to me and they had spoken of your compatibility at dancing with Longbottom," Trelawney said raising her voice so the rest of the students could hear her. "And besides, I think you are taller than Miss Granger, your stature fits better with Mr. Longbottom," she added in a low tone so only the two couples could understand.
Trelawney had to pull a reluctant Ginny away from Harry and guide her all the way to Neville. Meanwhile, Harry was unusually interested in the slight dust that covered the floor of the classroom and at the strange patterns the many feet dancing across it had created. He only stopped when a familiar pair of trainers appeared near his sight. When he finally looked up, he was surprised to see Hermione just as immersed in the dust patterns.
"all right children, we are going to start, please take your positions and let's begin..."
Everything was fine, perfect, all right...(damn his lack of vocabulary) but he had explained his main idea. He had done this before, and fairly well if he was allowed to ruffle his own feathers. So, naturally there was nothing to be afraid of; he knew the steps, the technique and had practiced enough for him to be secure of his movements...So if this was all true, why did his hand start trembling as soon as it begun his trajectory to Hermione's shoulder blade?!?!
If Hermione was to be true to herself, she had been totally disconcerted when it turned out Neville was to be her partner. Because as soon as Harry had accepted to attend ballroom class with her, she had imagined dancing along the Great Hall with Harry and she couldn't envision another partner. So why, after finally being paired up with him, did a huge naught formed in her throat as she lifted her hand to be cradled on Harry's.
When the actual moment when they touched came, so many emotions came flooding down towards them that neither of them could muster a word nor move for what seemed like hours.
It was impossible for Hermione to describe the feelings that Harry's hand had erupted with a single touch. Warm, soothing, electric, all seemed short. But what she did know was that it was difficult for her not to tighten her grip on his hand.
Damn, damn, damn, the fabric of Hermione's sweater. Due to the fact that the class was given on Sunday (refer to the start for traces of his indignation), they weren't required to wear their usual black school robes. So now the light beige sweater, which Harry though seemed to brighten Hermione's skin was in direct contact with his hand. And the feeling was so soft and velvety against the skin of his palm; he couldn't stop his thumb from fanning repeatedly against the fabric.
"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger would you be so kind to pay attention! And join the rest of us in dance class!" Trelawney's voice was so shrill and potent that it made Harry and Hermione jump from their dazed stages. As Harry turned around he realized that the rest of the dancers had already started and were practicing all along the classroom, with only Hermione and him remaining stationary. Both of them just nodded rapidly, looking down and trying to hide their blushing faces.
The blue magical steps were still in front of Harry's feet, waiting for him to give his first step to activate them. "Ready?" Harry asked, his voice raspy.
"Yes," Hermione simply responded, not finding more words to speak.
Before Harry's mind flashed the learned steps and tried to rapidly recall the technique. Giving the first step, the magical footprint started to move in the desired form, Harry and Hermione following them.
But just after a few steps Harry found it far more difficult to concentrate on his feet. He kept getting distracted by Hermione's hand, which kept tightening her grip on his shoulder ever so often, or he got immersed on the fresh, flowery smell that wafted to his nose. But the worst happen when he made the horrible mistake of looking at her eyes. He was caught; he had never before got the opportunity to see into her gaze from such a close distance. Not even that night which was still carved into his memory when he cleaned the smudge off her cheek. And it was impossible for him not to lose himself in her eyes, discovering a never before known depth, observing that her eyes actually had tiny little gold flecks that were undetectable if you didn't stand close enough. By now Harry wasn't even aware of what his feet were doing.
Hermione's mind had never before been so fogged and inattentive during a class, or at any other moment, but it just couldn't be helped. The knowledge and technique she had rapidly and thoroughly learned was slowly creeping into the back of her head the more time she passed touching Harry's arm and hand.
Everything seemed to take second place after all the sensations she was receiving from Harry's touch. Her entire hand was engulfed in a hot, vibrating temperature from where it was cupped by Harry's. While the other hand, which was poised on Harry's upper arm, was giving surreptitious squeezes; she was impressed that even though Harry was thin, his muscles were strong and firm (it sure didn't look like that when he wore his robe, she should know). Hermione was taking advantage of their closeness to continue with her inspection that she had started the morning they had woken up together of his face, still being fascinated of how uncannily flawless it was. When suddenly, Harry finally turned his face towards her and she unwillingly caught his gaze. She had to enact extreme self-control not to gasp at what she saw. Hermione knew of the great dazzling green shade of his eyes, but his eyes had always been somewhat obscured by the glare of his glasses. But now being at this distance where the light didn't reflect and interrupt the image, Hermione was surprised to learn how much deeper Harry's eyes were. Up close they were like a kaleidoscope of green, light dazzling emerald perfectly combined with profound dark green. She was so enwrapped wanting to see if it was physically possible to lose oneself to another person's eyes that ever so slowly the rest of the clatter and noise of the room began to disappear.
"Mr. Potter and Miss Granger, did you come to class to stand around and look glazed or to actually dance!" Trelawney spoke so loudly that she was almost shouting. "If you two don't continue to move your feet and dance, I am going to change partners again!"
Harry and Hermione tightened their grip on each other as they nodded frantically at Trelawney. They seemed to be a silent agreement the next time they met each other's gaze. Clearly neither of them wished to change partner.
Harry, ignoring the glances he was receiving from the rest of the group and especially ignoring all of the feelings, he decided to continue with the class. One-Two-Three, One-
Two-Three, he started counting mentally while having a hard time remembering what to do at each count. One-step forward with your left foot, did Hermione realize how much a ponytail favored her?...Two-straighten your knees and step with right foot to the side, her face was clearer...Three-draw your feet together, and brighter, definitely brighter, One-...had she used her hair like that before?
A soft intake of breath distracted him; looking down on Hermione's face he saw she was biting her lip. "OH! I'm sorry!" Harry apologized when he realized that he had stepped on her foot. He was so ashamed, and was sure his cheeks showed it. How could he have stepped on her foot? It wasn't on purpose that was obvious, but he was having a very difficult time concentrating and he honestly didn't know why. He had done absolutely all right when he danced with Ginny, and she was also a girl so it had clearly nothing to do with dancing with girls. So what was it then? Because many things were completely different; with Ginny he had no problems looking directly at his feet to supervise their movement, he could place complete attention to Trelawney's counting of the steps, and his hands didn't display a change in temperature. But now with Hermione, his eyes couldn't remain staring at his feet, because they were beaconed to look at her face, in contrast he could easily concentrate at whatever aspect of her face, and Trelawney's voice wasn't even audible over the frenzied rhythm of his heart. And while his hands had remained unscathed from Ginny's hand, now they were experimenting a drastic change in temperature; the one in her shoulder blade could so easily feel the temperature of her skin through the thin material of her sweater, that her own body heat seemed to radiate to his fingertips, and he didn't even want to think about his other hand that was cupping Hermione's hand. The feeling being so new and comfortable that he was holding her so tight that his hand was starting to sweat. Oh great! Just what I needed. What is Hermione going to think? Will she find it so revolting that she would want to let go?
Yes, Hermione answered the question she had just asked herself. Did Harry feel disgusted by the excessive sweating her hand was experiencing? Of course he did, just by the look on his face she could tell. She only wished that wasn't enough for him to let go. She couldn't help it, she was so nervous; it was surprising that her entire body hadn't melted already. Besides, she felt completely flustered, she had never had such a hard time concentrating on an activity, not even Professor Binn's slow drawl could deter her. Even though she started counting and doing some of the steps, after every single one of them her mind would travel to Harry's form. On how was it possible that his hair was so midnight black but still shimmer when the sun basked on his fringe, or how his glasses fitted the shape of his head to perfection. Her attention was so fixed on Harry that she hadn't even noticed that he had stepped on her foot, until he spoke to apologize and caught her in mid sigh.
This was getting ridiculous, she had danced before and with Krum a boy older than she was and an International Quidditch player at that, and she had never felt so self-conscious of her movements before. And Krum himself had even complimented her on how well she danced (of course he didn't realize she wasn't so much as dancing as letting herself be lead) but still, she could easily read his body language to know what he was going to do next, and she was 100% attuned with the music to be able to follow the rhythm. But now? What was she paying attention to? On how Harry's chest rose and fell with each intake of breath, on how the muscles on his neck tensed, on how his jersey clung loosely to his frame, and the only thing she was attuned to was to the rhythm of her heart pounding mercilessly on her ears.
Another silent agreement was formed between the two when their eyes met yet again after a mistake they made while dancing (they had actually made the step to the opposite direction). They had to make the effort or otherwise back to their original partners.
What were they doing anyway? Harry though creasing his brow is question, Oh yeah, the damn box thing.
"Left Box Turn," Hermione said to Harry, "that is what we were practicing, right?"
Harry just stared at her for another minute; sometimes it was eerily disturbing how well she could read his mind.
So off they went, finally paying attention to the colored steps in front of them, and following them while doing the practiced steps. But try as they might, they just couldn't dance well. They were so nervous they kept changing directions, Hermione turning to the left while Harry turned to the right. Hermione was stomping on Harry's feet when she stepped to the front rather than the back. And the more they made mistakes likes this, the more nervous and flustered they became. Trelawney kept looking sideways at them while she was walking through the couples, but she didn't say anything to them again. Perhaps she knew they were under enough embarrassment by their poor dancing skills, Harry thought sourly as for the tenth time he stepped on Hermione's toes. He knew he was now actually worse than Neville.
Finally, the class drew to an end, but not soon enough from Harry's point of view. Professor Trelawney said goodbye with the warning that next class they were going to start practicing with music. Harry's only response was to gulp hardly.
Slowly the four Gryffindors made their way to their common room in a complete silence. Neville was quite proud of himself, he had faired better with Ginny as a partner, for some reason he wasn't as nervous around her as with Hermione, (which he secretly always though was grading his dancing). Ginny looked sullen and separated herself as soon as she could from the four of them and headed straight to the lake, claiming she needed a walk. Harry and Hermione were left alone after Neville headed back to the Great Hall. Suffice to say that Harry didn't know what to say to Hermione. Should he apologize for the terrible beating he gave to her feet? She tried to hide it, but he knew she was limping again, and this time he didn't have to ask why.
Hermione was walking sadly by Harry's side, not wanting to look at his face. She had been a terrible partner, and was sure Harry would want to change partners for Ginny again. After all, Ginny hadn't stomped on his feet every ten seconds. It wasn't a difficult assumption to make that Ginny had been dancing better with Harry than she had done.
Harry couldn't bear it anymore, when they came to the known corridor he quickly grabbed Hermione's arm and started dragging her to another part of the castle.
Hermione was caught of guard and walked several strides before she remembered the pain in her feet and slowed down. "Where are we going?"
Harry took a various seconds to answer and only mumbled incoherently, so the only part she understood was, "...feet...swollen..." she kept walking numbly in silence. It was her fault his feet were swollen.
When Hermione fell silent by his side, he felt even guiltier. Finally Hermione realized where Harry was taking her when they reached the giant painting of fruit that opened to reveal the kitchen. "Look, Harry..." Hermione stopped abruptly, extracting her arm from his grip, before he got the opportunity to tickle the pear.
Harry already knew what was coming.
"I'm sorry," Harry and Hermione spoke simultaneously; they were surprised to hear an apology from the other.
"You didn't do anything!" they spoke outraged.
"It was my fault!" they both argued.
Hermione having enough of their combined argument lifted her hand to stop the talking.
"What are you sorry for?" Harry finally asked.
"Isn't it obvious? Because I'm responsible for your swollen feet," Hermione responded shyly.
"My feet?" Harry answered surprised that she was blaming herself. (Although now that he realized it his feet did hurt, but it didn't matter as much as her feet.)
"Yes! Isn't it why you brought me here? So you could soak your feet?"
"Of course not!" Harry immediately replied, "I brought you here because I was the one who stamped on your feet, worse than Neville, and I wanted you to rest your feet."
"You? But I'm the one..." Harry didn't let Hermione finish by shaking his head in negation. Hermione would have argued more about the subject, but there was another important point that she needed to know. "So, you don't want to change partners?" she asked hopefully.
"No! Absolutely not!" Harry answered fervently, but then fear crept up his stomach. "Do you?"
"No! Of course I don't!" Hermione answered equaling his tone.
They stood there by the painting, looking bashfully at each other for their misunderstanding. Harry thought better to continue with his plan; before he could do something he would regret later, and lifted his hand tickled the pear. It wiggled somewhat before the painting swung open.
One little house-elf immediately separated himself from the rest as soon as he saw Harry. "Harry Potter sir! Harry Potter sir!" Dobby was bellowing with happiness as he came running towards Harry. "Harry Potter has come to visit Dobby again! This makes Dobby so happy sir. And he has brought his friend!"
"Hello Dobby," Hermione said with an extra sweet tone.
"Hey Dobby, do you think you could bring us a container with some hot water and salt, please?"
"Of course, sir, Dobby is delighted to serve Harry Potter," he said bowing low to both of them. "Although Dobby doesn't understand why would Harry Potter like to drink so much hot water and with salt!"
Harry let out a laugh at Dobby's ideas, before explaining. "It's not for drinking Dobby, it is for Hermione to soak her feet in."
"Oh, please forgive Dobby for not understanding. Please sit down Harry Potter and his friend, I'll bring the container to you right away," Dobby said while bowing one more time as Harry and Hermione found two big great wooden chairs to rest on, before he set off.
"Wait, Dobby!" Hermione stopped him before he could leave.
"Yes, Harry Potter's friend. What can Dobby do to help you?"
"First, call me Hermione. And second, could you please bring two containers so that Harry can soak his feet as well?" Hermione asked politely as she always demanded the house-elves to be treated.
"Dobby will bring what ever Harry Potter and Hernee need," Dobby hurriedly made his way deep into the kitchen.
Hermione's smile didn't falter after Dobby pronounced her name, but she did however give Harry a very stern look when he wouldn't stop sniggering. "Would you stop?" Hermione admonished. "After the life he's had he can call me however he can."
"Ok...ok..." Harry said calmingly trying to control his smile, "Whatever you say...Herne."
Hermione turned her head rapidly towards him. "Shut up!" she said mock-angrily, "You cannot call me like that! You are not a house-elf!! You have not lived half your life in servitude!"
Harry just laughed earning him a few jabs at his ribs. Dobby finally returned with the two large containers of water and was preparing to help Harry take his shoes off, but Harry put a stop to it. After testing the water with his big toe, Harry finally immersed his two tired feet into the depth of the container, Hermione following a suit. A great sigh of relief was heard from them as they shared a small smile. After only a few minutes Dobby came back carrying a tray with treacle tarts and big glasses of pumpkin juice. Harry thanked Dobby and Hermione offered him to sit down and eat with them. After Dobby shed some tears while wailing of the greatness of Harry Potter and his friend he sat on the floor in front of them and started talking about his recent buys of new socks. Harry and Hermione spent the rest the time in the kitchen, talking and eating until the water in the containers was cold. They said goodbye to Dobby and sent their regards to Winky and departed.
***
The following Monday the school was full of energy, for the weeks until Halloween were diminishing with every day. Just in Harry's way from Divination to the Great Hall he presence four invitations to the Masquerade ball, fortunately for the boys who were asking all of them were a resounding yes. This got Harry thinking; because of what had happened with Ron, his daily hospital visits, Quidditch practice, homework, ballroom dancing, and everything else in the life of a young wizard he didn't have the opportunity to spare a thought to the Masquerade ball. But it was approaching and with giant steps and he still didn't have a date, he didn't even know if he was going to attend. To tell the truth he didn't feel very good to be attending parties, well just the thought of asking someone to the ball reminded him of last years Yule Ball when Ron and him were getting desperate to find dates. And with a sad smile he remembered his best friend's depression after having asked Fleur Delacour, the French student from Beauxbatons, to the ball.
He arrived at the Great Hall, rapidly scanning the Gryffindor table as he walked, until his eyes landed on the brown-haired girl he was looking for. He went directly towards her and sat besides her. "Hello Harry, did you have a nice Divination class?" Hermione asked while she was putting a way the book she had been reading.
Harry just snorted. "There is no such thing as a nice Divination class, Hermione."
Hermione just smiled and proceeded to decide on what to eat. Harry offered her some beef stew and she gladly accepted. They enjoyed a nice lunch, Harry retelling Trelawney's new tale of his death, and Hermione recalling what she had found interesting in Arithmancy. Almost at the end of lunch, before any student could leave the tables, Dumbledore stood up and extended his arms claiming silence. "Attention students, as you well know, Halloween is approaching, and with it our first Masquerade Ball," Dumbledore had to pause due to so much squeals, mainly coming from Parvati. "To make the evening more entertaining we have devised some new activities. If you are attending the Ball with a date you would have to wear special bracelets that Professor Flitwick was kind enough to charm." The tiny little charms professor gave a little wave from his seat. "These bracelets are charmed to recognize your date, as you will be under disguise and could be difficult to recognize one another." There were some noises of agreement all around the tables. "There is going to be, of course, further information on the use of the bracelets during your charms class. Also, from this week and until Halloween you will be seeing special lessons in each of your classes, which according to your grade will aid you in furthering your disguise-"
"But how are we supposed to find or buy disguises if we are not allowed into Hogsmeade anymore?" Parvati asked rather loudly to nobody in particular.
Dumbledore didn't show that he had heard her; however, he seemed to come up with the answer. "If you are wondering about how you are going to purchase a disguise, they will be supervised visits to Hogsmeade, this visits will take place over the weekend, when you will be escorted with your year's classmates into the village by several professors. The schedules of your year's visit will appear on your common room, of course this only applies from years third and up." There were several noises in answer to this announcement, various girls were giggling with excitement to go back to the village and making purchases, some boys remained somber remembering the perils that now where a reality at Hogsmeade. "And to conclude, at the end of the Masquerade Ball, which is scheduled to be at one in the morning, whatever spell or charms you used to help disguise your appearance will fade. So there you have it, I hope you all attend the ball and have a wondrous evening. And since now I have stolen too much of your time, you can all leave," Dumbledore ended sitting back down to discuss something with Professor McGonagall.
The students were left in a frenzy, they discussed the new information and some of them were beginning to abandon the Great Hall. "I have forgotten all about the Masquerade," Hermione said still seated.
"Yeah, me too," Harry shared, looking at from the corner of his eyes. And then he allowed himself to think what in the recesses of his mind was hiding. Could he invite Hermione to go with him? Would she even want to go? It seemed to him that she wouldn't even think about it, and he felt guilty for thinking about it himself. But...he did want to go, and with her...to keep her company, of course, to make her have fun.
Between all of the things she had been experimenting this past weeks, the nightly readings, waking up everyday next to Harry, visiting Ron constantly, her homework, special projects, extra-credit, and more activities, the idea of the Masquerade was far from Hermione's mind. But Dumbledore had brought back the topic this evening, and now she was confused. Because some great part of her wanted to live this adventure, wanted just for a second be like every other girl and wonder for what dress to wear, how to comb her hair, and to leave all the dreadful reality behind her. And another part of her knew that she could only attend that ball if she was escorted by...well Harry, why beat around the bush? But at the second, the feeling that was winning within herself was of guilt; for thinking that Harry could even think of stupid dances when his best friend, and almost brother, was in a coma. If only Harry would come with her, that she would make every effort possible to make him forget also about the cold reality of his life, and make him feel, just for one night, that he was a regular fifteen-year-old wizard, having a regular fun night.
Harry and Hermione were walking slowly through the corridors of Hogwarts, each of them immersed in their own reflections.
Harry, with his hands stuck deep into his pockets was in the middle of a great decision. Maybe I could just ask her, very casually if she is interested in the ball...
Hermione's mind was in the in the same dilemma. I could make it sound like a normal inquiry; just curious I'll say...
And after threading the ground after her reaction...
Depending on how he reacts, I can voice my opinion that I find the ball as a needed distraction...
...and maybe I could ask her to go with me, just...
...like friends of course, its not as if it was a real...
...date, no, I am just asking as a friend, who has her best interest...
...in mind, I mean he has been through so much...
...any other girl would have gone mad after what she has lived through...
...but...even if she is interesting in going to the ball, that doesn't mean she would want to go with...
...me, he does have so many other girls interested in him...
...but as for me, I do want to go with her, and I am going to...
...ask him, I just hope he doesn't...
...laugh at me, or...
...feel sorry for letting me down...
...well, enough, I am...
...going to ask him...
...right now!...
"Harry?"
"Hermione?"
Both Harry and Hermione were stock still with surprise, their mouths were open ready to speak, they were just about to voice out each other's name, but they got beaten to it, and now another pair of voices were calling them.
Harry turned around to the direction the voice calling him had come from until he met the sweet face of Cho Chang. "Hello Harry, could I speak to you for a moment?"
Hermione was surprised to be called just when she was going to talk and turned to find a nervous Neville. "Hermione...could...I mean...is it possible...for us...could we talk for a second?"
"Er...sure," Harry answered, rapidly glancing towards Neville, who was standing waiting for Hermione.
Cho walked a few steps away from Hermione and Neville, Harry following her reluctantly. He had a sinking feeling of what Neville wanted with Hermione.
Cho smiled sweetly at Harry as soon as he had caught up with her. Cho Chang...the prettiest Ravenclaw, now in her sixth year, seeker of her house Quidditch team. "So...how have you been?" Harry asked to end the heavy silence. Although he knew that this question had a double meaning in her case; to start the conversation and to know how she was dealing after the death of her boyfriend Cedric, during last year incident.
"Well...I'm fine," Cho spoke softly looking straight into Harry's eyes, "although I can say, it's been a very difficult summer."
Harry was watching her intently as she spoke. If it was possible she had gotten even prettier after the summer, her hair had grown, but still shined with the sun. And her eyes, although now with sadder gaze, were still brilliant. Harry could see that her lips were moving again, but he wasn't listening. The still fresh memory when he had asked her to the Yule Ball last year came flashing back, the nervousness of approaching her, the desire to be with her that night. It was always nerve racking to talk to her, and now as he gazed deeply into her beautiful eyes, he waited for the usual jump his stomach gave when being near her presence...but it never came. Harry was totally flabbergasted, here she was, the girl he had had a crush on ever since his third year had asked to talk to him privately, and he wasn't even really listening to what she was saying, all he could do was glance towards Neville, feeling sick at what he was probably asking.
"Harry, are you listening?" Cho's soft interrogation brought his gaze back to her face.
"Er...yes of course, you were saying?" Harry asked, ashamed at his lack of attention. What was happening to him? Wasn't she the girl he had always secretly dreamt about? He had desired so much to go with her last year to the ball, and the opportunity to ask her again presented itself so clearly right now that they were alone. But he...didn't want to? And now that he thought about it, he hadn't spared a dream for Cho since he came back to Hogwarts this year. He hadn't even noticed her before in the halls. Why had Cho Chang suddenly left his fancy? Was it possible that he didn't have a crush on her anymore? Well, whom was he kidding, it wasn't the same, he knew it, but most importantly he felt it.
Cho didn't answer right away; she gazed deeply into Harry's eyes, making him feel uncomfortable of her deep scrutiny. Various seconds were passed this way, until Cho finally let out a sigh. "Forget about it Harry," Cho said smiling sadly at him. "I wanted something from you, but it's obvious that it isn't mine anymore," Cho ended giving a furtive glance towards the direction Harry's eyes were directed just moments before, without Harry noticing.
Harry was confused at what she meant. What did she want? Did he have something of hers? Cho interrupted his thoughts again. "I'm sorry for bothering you Harry."
"You don't bother me, Cho. It was nice to talk to you again," he said honestly this time.
"Thank you. Well, see you at the Quidditch field then?" Cho added her voice getting stronger.
"You bet."
Cho smiled at Harry again before she started walking towards her class. "And Harry?" Cho suddenly turned around, standing various steps away from him. "Good luck!"
Harry furrowed his brow. With what? Harry wondered, and he was about to ask her, but she already had started running slowly away. Good luck with what? Quidditch?
But Harry couldn't waste a minute standing there trying to interpret Cho's cryptic message, he had to stop Neville!
Hermione was being terribly rude, and she knew it. But she just couldn't pay attention to what Neville was trying to say. She had followed Harry and Cho with her eyes and fruitlessly tried to read their lips, but she already knew what Cho wanted. The tone she had used when she talked to him, told her...ugh. She never did like Cho that much...now Hermione felt guiltily. That wasn't true, sure she didn't know Cho at all, just from seeing her at the Quidditch games and passing her by the halls, and that was it. But Hermione never felt like this before, Cho seemed like a very nice girl, and pretty, obviously pretty by how Harry was looking at her...she definitely didn't like Cho. Why was she feeling like this? She never felt this ugly feeling towards anyone before (Slytherin excluded of course) But now, her stomach contracted just by looking at the smile she was giving Harry. And the worst part was that Harry liked Cho, it was so obvious from his reactions the past years towards her. And she couldn't do anything about it. She was sure Harry would take this opportunity to ask Cho to the ball this year. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest, while she saw Harry looking straight into Cho's eyes. Suddenly she felt angry with heart, for hurting her chest, at Cho for thinking that she could just waltz to Harry and expect him to come willingly, at Harry for doing exactly what Cho desired, at Neville who had interrupted her when she was about to ask Harry and at herself for being stupid enough to be thinking such ridiculous thoughts. Her sudden angry mood made her turn her gaze back at Neville and snap at him, "For Merlin's sake Neville, diction!! I can't understand a word you are saying!!"
Neville who had been mumbling incoherently for the duration of Hermione's internal dilemma got, if possible, more flustered and was now red as a ripe tomato and couldn't speak anymore.
Hermione gave a desperate sigh (almost grunt) at him, but immediately tried to calm herself. After all Neville wasn't responsible for her mood.
"Neville! Wait!" Harry came running back and was shouting at Neville.
Hermione for some reason didn't want to look at him right now. And didn't even want to know what Harry would want with Neville.
"I need to ask Hermione something important," Harry said rapidly, touching Hermione's shoulder lightly.
"What?" Hermione responded, rather acidly.
"But...Harry..." Neville was still blabbering.
"Real fast Neville, I promise," Harry insisted, a little confused at Hermione's tone.
"But...I wanted to ask Hermione..." Neville interrupted and Harry could see that he wasn't going to give up.
"Hermione, willyougototheballwithme?" Harry said so fast that it sounded as a monosyllabic word.
Hermione's heart gave a strong jolt again, but this time the feeling behind it was completely different. "What?" she asked softly, not believing what she thought she heard.
"Hermione demands good diction, Harry," Neville pointed out helpfully to Harry.
Harry turned towards Neville, confused at what he was saying. His head was so hot not that he knew it was going to explode any minute now. "I know it sounds weird, and you probably don't even want to...I also know this isn't the time to be thinking about balls, but...if you...I mean...if you think you are up for it...I would want to know if you would go to the Masquerade Ball with me?"
Hermione wanted to beam with delight, her face actually hurt from trying to control the muscles to prevent from smiling. "But...didn't you ask Cho?"
"What?! No!! What she wanted was..." Harry stopped; he had to guiltily admit that he didn't even paid attention to what she was saying, so he didn't know what she wanted. "Was to talk to me a little about her summer," Harry invented in the end.
Harry waited nervously for Hermione to answer his question; the only thing that was giving him support was the fact that she wasn't laughing. But Hermione answered his question even before she opened her mouth with the sweet beautiful smile she gave him.
"Of course Harry, it would be wonderful to go with you," Hermione spoke so softly.
Harry wanted to say something like great, thanks or some words to express how happy he felt, but his mouth only appeared capable of grinning madly. Harry and Hermione remained looking at each other until Neville cleared his throat as a reminder of his presence.
"Neville! I'm so sorry," Hermione said truthfully, apologizing also for how she had treated him only minutes ago, "what is it that you wanted?"
"Don't worry about it Hermione; I just wanted to know if I can borrow the book Muggle Dancing and the Magical Ways to Master it, you have," Neville asked politely.
Hermione's cheeks were immediately red. "What?"
"Well, Madam Pince said that you had checked out the only copy of the book, and I was wondering if I can borrow it for a bit."
"Oh! Yes that book...that book! Yes! I remember I checked it out...but I forgot about it...yes!" Hermione was blabbering, but Neville being fluent in that kind of language was understanding perfectly. "I don't have it with me, it's up in my room...so I'll give it to you later, ok?"
"Yes, thanks Hermione," Neville said, before leaving them alone.
Harry was still smiling at Hermione, who was holding her schoolbag a little more tightly. "It's in your schoolbag, isn't it?" Harry said, giving Hermione a significant look.
Hermione was shaking her head in negation, but she knew Harry already knew the truth; she sighed heavily before admitting. "Yes," she expressed sadly, "How did you know?"
"It will rain hippogriffs the day Hermione Granger forgets about a book," Harry simply answered.
Hermione blushed more. "It's just wanted to research about it a little...be more prepared."
Harry saw that Hermione was actually embarrassed so he stopped jeering at her. "Look that is a great idea. I need to be more prepared also. How about we read it tonight rather than our usual, Hogwarts: A History?"
Hermione's face light up again. "Yes! That would be perfect, for we do have class again this Tuesday you know?" Hermione responded, and started walking to their Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
But Harry didn't move from his place. "What?!" he questioned outraged, stoic from the shock. "Already?"
But Hermione, although was still very close, didn't appear to hear him.
***
For a strange reason that Harry didn't want to know right now, he couldn't go to visit Ron with Hermione that evening. So instead he went to Gryffindor Tower and sat in one of the big plush chairs, waiting for the common room to clear out, for him to start preparing the couch for their nightly readings.
The twins were currently huddled together with their friend Lee Jordan at one of the tables with hundreds of parchments scattered across it. Lee was always trying to engage his friends in further inventing merchandise for their joke shop, as he deemed it the only way the twins could be distracted by the tragedy that had occurred to their younger brother. And even though they did their best, and spent hours at the night researching and planning, something within the twins had extinguished, their faces weren't as bright as before.
Paining him to even look at Fred and George, Harry turned his sight to the only other group in the common room, which unfortunately seemed to be formed by every single Gryffindor girl, from every year. They were all sitting in a circle together, some in the couches, the floor and even on the tables. It seemed like a conference was in session, for the procedure appeared to be that one girl would talk lively, gesturing wildly with her arms, then when she was finished the rest of the congregation giggled like crazy. Harry tried hard not to listen to their talk, but they were talking so loudly that it could be heard all around the common room. And of course, the main topic was the Masquerade; who they were going to go with, what they wanted to dress up as, what they wanted their DATES to dress up as, what they expected to receive from their dates, how they desired to be treated, adventures they wanted to experience, how many songs they wanted to dance, and when the conversation turned to how some girls wished the night ended with a snog session, Harry tried extra hard to tuned them out.
Girls, Harry thought dismissively. What was their attention focused on! Events happened all around the world, close to them as Hogsmeade and even here at Hogwarts and all they were interested in was how they were going to spend their evening during the Ball. Hermione had never been like that, she was always so conscious about what was happening in her surroundings, receptive to the everyday occurrences, attuned with others feelings, and intelligent to search for ways to solve the problems. He had never once seen her get overworked about what she was going to wear, or how much she was going to dance...but then...that wasn't entirely good either, was it? Since her first year she had gotten involved in his world of fighting and searching. Getting into troubles since the moment that troll attacked her on Halloween. And she never once got to experience a calm, normal and even girly fun day like the rest of the female population. But that was exactly what she deserved, after almost five years of fighting by his side against Voldemort. And especially after all she had to suffer because of what happened to Ron, she had earned a wonderful, splendid fun filled night, where all her troubles would float away into oblivion.
Well that was what he was going to do; he was going to do his best to make of the ball a night to remember. He knew how right? After all he had been to a ball before...but...Harry glanced at Parvati who was in the middle of the circle of girls. She had been his first "date" to a ball ever, but he never felt any special inclination to make that evening wonderful. He didn't even remember what happened at the ball with Parvati, for all he did was to follow Cho around with his sight. He didn't want to do that to Hermione. And then fear came rumbling to his stomach; he didn't know what he could do, he didn't know how to act, what were the instructions, did instructions even exist? This night was to be totally different; he wasn't going to act with Hermione as recklessly as he had done so with Parvati. But he needed to know how, he needed help, he needed someone to advise him...he knew who needed.
Harry rapidly grabbing his schoolbag sat up from his chair and ignoring the strange glances he was receiving from some of the girls in the group, headed straight out through the portrait hole. He ran as fast as he could dodge Peeves, all the way to the owlery. It was scarier to be at the owlery so late. The eyes of the many owls glowed through the darkening room. Harry found the cleanest part of the floor and sat down, rummaging in his bag for a piece of parchment and his quill. Before he could change his mind he began to write...
Dear Snuffles,
I hope you are well. Here we're doing as well as we can given our situation. Although it seems to have worsen thanks to Ballroom dancing class.
The reason that I am writing you is because I need your help. Now, don't worry, it isn't serious or life-threatening, but still important. If you've been in contact with Moony, then you should know that there is going to be a Masquerade Ball on Halloween and I need your urgent advice on the subject.
Perhaps you find my petition strange, believe me I do, but this time the occasion is different and important.
I hope that you can help me.
Say hello to Buckbeak for me,
Best wishes
Harry
Harry reread the letter five times, and each time he felt extremely silly to bother Sirius with something so ordinary. But before he could decide whether or not to destroy it, Hedwig came flying down and landed softly at his raised knees. She hooted calmly and extended her leg, as if prodding him to continue. Harry rolled the parchment and tied it to her leg. Hedwig flew away hurriedly not giving Harry the opportunity to change his mind.
Harry didn't have to wait too much time for Sirius' answer. Two days later, Hedwig arrived with the parchment. Harry began to read immediately while Hedwig helped herself to some juice.
Dear Harry,
Well this is sure refreshing, to hear normal news from you.
Also, you don't now how happy it makes me feel that you need me for typical teenager advice ('bout time!).
I have indeed been in contact with old Moony, that it's why I know that you have an escorted visit to Hogsmeade. We can meet there.
Now don't get all worried; since there is still time, I am going to travel extra careful (don't give me that incredulous look, I promise I will be!) And it would be of great help if you could lend me your dad's cloak while at Hogsmeade. You can give it to Moony.
And don't worry about anything,
See you soon,
Snuffles
P.S. What is this you write about Ballroom Dancing?!? I am expecting to hear the entire story.
The groan Harry let out after the end was heard throughout the Gryffindor table.
*
The schedule for Hogsmeade visits was posted at the common room on Wednesday morning.
First Week
Friday - Seventh Years
Saturday - Sixth Years
Sunday - Fifth Years
Second Week
Saturday - Fourth Years
Sunday - Third Years
Harry wondered it Sirius knew the day they were assigned, and he got his question answered when he went to visit professor Lupin to give him his dad's invisibility cloak. Lupin had told him that everything was arranged, even a special permission. Harry was confused at what Lupin meant, but he knew he would find out soon enough.
The days flew fast enough, and before he realized the chosen Sunday had arrived. All of the fifth years, from all of the houses, were to be escorted by six professors, Lupin, Snape, Hagrid, McGonagall, Sprout and Trelawney. They were the first to walk out the huge oak door, while the students waited for Filch to check each one of them in his list. As they were all in the line so scrunched up tightly, Harry got the opportunity to hear almost all of the conversations, and all of them were about the same, what they wanted to go dressed as. Harry found that almost every girl was telling her date what to dress as, so they can be the same theme. Harry had never thought about this before, what if Hermione had already deemed what they were going as.
As the queue didn't seem to be advancing, Harry took the opportunity. "Hermione, do you have any plan as to what I am going to wear?" He knew he didn't hide his fear as well as he wished.
Hermione turned so rapidly towards him that she hit Colin, who was next to her, with her hair. "Of course not, Harry! I can't decide that for you! You need to choose what you're comfortable with," she said in an admonishing tone.
Harry sighed from relief. "So you don't care if we don't go dressed alike?"
Hermione smiled. "So you wanted to go with a dress too?"
Harry glared mock-menacingly at her. "No! I meant that you don't want to have a partnered theme?"
Hermione was still laughing from Harry's reaction. "It really doesn't matter that much to me. As long as we both find something that we like."
"Good," Harry said as the line began to move. "For a moment there I thought you wanted to go as a princess and make me go as a frog or something."
Hermione pretended to be considering it seriously. "Well, now that I think about it, the frog suit would combine perfectly with your eyes."
Harry blushed involuntarily at her comment, remembering the last poem he had received some years ago for Valentine. He didn't get the opportunity to reply as they started to get pushed out the door by the rest of the mass of students.
Harry had never before experienced a Hogsmeade visit as this one. All of the fifth years were huddled together at the center, while the six professors were surrounding them from all points. Harry barely saw the sign from the Leaky Cauldron from between the throng. They weaved through the streets of Hogsmeade for various minutes, until they appeared to reach their destination, as they began to slow down. From Harry could see, between the head in front of him, it was a tall building with more than three landings. Through the large glass windows at the front, hundreds of different costumes were visible.
"All right students, we are going to make this as efficient as possible. The store is divided; the girls will follow Professor Sprout, Professor Trelawney and I to the second floor where the girls' costumes are held. The boys will follow Professor Snape and Professor Lupin to the floor where you can find your costumes," Professor McGonagall explained as the students began to divide in half by their sex. "Come on then, girls."
All the girls went in following Professor McGonagall's stride. The boys went in next following Snape. As Harry was walking in, Professor Lupin stopped him. "Wait here with me until the rest has gone in," Lupin murmured rapidly to Harry as soon as he got him standing next to him. Harry only nodded.
When all of the students were in, Hagrid was left to guard the entrance, standing at the front of the door with all of his half-giant greatness. Lupin was murmuring softly again, but this time Harry didn't understand anything, Lupin was facing the other way. He opened the door and waited a few seconds before he let Harry go in and he followed a suit.
"Professor Lupin, what are you..." Harry's question got interrupted when he felt someone squeeze his shoulder tightly.
Harry looked around, but found nobody. "Harry, it's me!" a soft muster was heard.
"Sirius?" Harry questioned his voice low.
"Shh," Lupin pronounced, "be quiet."
"Snuffles, what are you doing in here? I thought we were going to meet after this," Harry questioned, while he pretended to be looking around the rack of costumes.
"Well, I thought you would want help with your costume also," Sirius answered his voice always low.
"You're right then! I really do need help. I have no idea what to choose," Harry said desperately.
"Let's go have a look around the store then," Lupin advised as he signaled Harry to go on ahead. "And be careful not to bump with anybody Padfoot."
"I know, Moony. I've used the cloak so many times before, remember?" Sirius answered tightly.
Even though Harry was finding funny the interaction between the old friends, he still was anxious about what to buy. The racks were full with various and different kinds of dresses, pants, tails, body parts that looked so real that Harry had to turn around. Neville and Seamus were standing under the huge sign that read "Muggle costumes" and were currently trying out different styles of hats, Seamus was wearing a police man cap while Neville had on a big, extravagant type of pearled tiara with hundreds of colorful feathers cascading down it. "Er- Neville, I think that that belongs to the girl section," said Dean as he tried to control his laugh. Harry agreed with him, Neville was wearing one of the head ornaments that are common for women from Brazil during the carnival.
Harry was undecided, did he want to dress as something Muggle (some Ravenclaws were fighting over a postman uniform) or something magical (while none appear to be fighting over some troll legs combo that included a big club)? As Harry was perusing a long kings cape, he heard Sirius voice, a little more loudly that he should. Although there was so much noise inside the store that nobody seemed to notice.
"Here is your costume, Harry," Sirius expressed happily as he pulled a dark pant leg from the rack behind Harry.
"Padfoot!" Lupin reprimanded in a low voice, as he hurried to grab the leg that had appeared to be floating in the air.
Harry turned around to see better what Sirius had suggested. "You can't go wrong with leather."
Harry didn't feel too confident after that statement. And he was right, when he saw the complete outfit. It was a pair of black leather pants accompanied only with a leather vest. It was something you would see on some of the bikers on TV. "Absolutely not! There is no way I am wearing that!" Harry answered vehemently.
"But everybody loves a bloke in leather. Girls especially," Sirius replied, and Harry could hear he was smiling.
Harry only shook his head. "What exactly is it that you are looking for, Harry?" Lupin asked after letting go of the pants leg. A sigh was heard in midair.
"I don't want anything flashy!" Harry expressed to the empty space beside Lupin. "I want something very simple, but elegant...I want to look nice, not perverted."
Lupin's gaze studied Harry for a second before he let his gaze wonder throughout the store. "Wait here," he said to Harry after he appeared to have found something in the Muggle section.
Harry and Sirius continued glancing through the racks. "So, you never did tell me, who are you going with?" Sirius asked.
Without knowing why, Harry began to blush. "With Hermione," he said in a tone too stiff to be considered casual.
"Hermione?" Sirius asked, his tone too sharp to be mere confusion.
"Yes...well...you know...she's been very depressed, and well...I asked her to the Ball, as friends of course," Harry explained.
"Really?" Sirius said, his voice doubting.
"Harry," Lupin had returned and was carrying some garments with him, "how about this?"
Harry took the clothes Lupin had given him and observed them one by one. They were just what he wanted, simple, very simple, but elegant. "I like them."
"Why don't you try them on," Sirius suggested.
Harry hurried to the curtains that served as dressing rooms, while Sirius and Lupin waited. "Did you know who he is going with?" Sirius asked his friend.
"He told me when he went to my office, Hermione," Lupin said, staring directly to the empty space beside him.
"Do you think..." The friend didn't need to finish the question. The other already knew the answer.
*
Draco was waiting impatiently, tapping his foot with an accelerated rhythm on the stone floor. He wasn't even looking at the clothes around him, only glaring at whoever ventured to his corridor. "Where is that buffoon?" he asked himself loudly.
"Umm, you sent him to-" Crabbe, who was beside him started to answer.
"Did I say that you could talk to me?" Draco said coldly with frustration in his voice.
Crabbe just stared directly at Draco, wondering if he should answer. Just then Goyle came running to their direction, and stopped in front of Draco, sucking air grotesquely, from his run. "Well, don't just stand there and waste my time breathing, did you find out what I needed?"
Goyle only nodded. An evil sneered spread itself over Draco's slim lips. "Perfect."
*
There were so many giggles around her that Hermione's head was about to burst. It didn't matter if it was the ugliest piece of fabric in the entire store, the girls would giggle madly. Parvati seemed to be the giggle queen, while strangely enough Lavender was silent, intently looking through the rows of costumes. Ten minutes had already passed and Hermione still hadn't found the perfect costume. Normally she wouldn't fuss on her clothes, a look at her closet would be proof enough, but this time she wanted to look as special as she could manage. She had to admire the variety of costumes the store carried, so far she had seen from elaborate seventeen century dresses, to beautiful fairy costumes, complete with real wings. Both none of them were for her.
She was browsing for the second time on the Muggle section of the floor when a vivid color caught her gaze. She walked back a few steps when she saw it. The most beautiful dress she had ever seen, hanging on the wall. The color was so live and radiant that it seemed to mesmerize her as she extended her hand to touch the fabric.
But Hermione didn't see another hand that shot out towards the dress at the same time. "Let go of the dress, Granger, you're too ugly to pull it off," the shrill voice of Pansy Parkinson broke her first ever dress-induced trance.
"Since when do you have enough brains to decide both my actions and yours?" Hermione countered, tightening her grip around the dress.
"I said let go, Granger," Pansy replied pulling at her side of the dress.
"As if you can make me," Hermione responded.
"Ladies, please," a short little fat witch came to the rescue. She wore a magical badge that said, 'My name is Mona' then it faded and the phrase 'how can I help you' appeared. "There is no need to fight," she said as she placed herself between Hermione and Pansy. "I don't know if you have noticed, but only one costume has struck your liking," she spoke kindly. "Our selection isn't just of a high quality, but they are also magical."
"No kidding," Pansy asked snidely.
Hermione hated to admit it, but that was rather obvious. Whatever costume you observed it had many magical aspects; from the real feathers of a tropical bird suit, to the salty smell of the fins from a fish suit.
If the friendly witch heard the sardonic note, she didn't let on. "What this means is that they are something alike wands. There is only one costume, for each witch, in accordance to their personality, values, etc."
"Yeah? Well this one is mine," Pansy exclaimed and took advantage of Hermione's attention to the witch's speech to yank it out of her grip.
"Hey!" Hermione reacted as Pansy ran to the fitting room.
The plump witch placed a calming hand at Hermione's shoulder. "One costume, to each witch."
Hermione tried not to glare at Mona's smiling face. Yeah that is helpful now. Stupid Pansy, how-
Hermione's train of thought was halted by a great scream. "Ahhh!! Help!! It's strangling me!!" Pansy was crying from the fitting rooms.
Mona took an exceptional amount of time to cross the distance towards her, minutes later she walked out carrying the dress with her.
"Stupid dress! It was ugly anyway..." Pansy was shouting while Mona placed the dress on Hermione's arms.
"You try it," she said softly.
"You're dreaming! If that bloody dress didn't want me, with my body! You think it will fill that dirty Gryffindor!"
"It fits!" Hermione exclaimed happily from behind the curtain. "It really fits!"
That shut Pansy right up, who just growled and moved away.
"So, darling," Mona said through the curtain, smiling more widely.
"I'll take it," Hermione immediately answered.
At last Harry and the rest of the fifth years came out of the store, outside of which Hagrid was still standing guard. "Well, hurry up to the castle," McGonagall instructed and led the way.
"What are we going to do?" Harry asked Lupin frantically. "I wanted to talk to Snuffles."
"Don't worry, he's coming with us," Lupin answered pushing Harry to start walking.
"What! But..."
"Its all right Harry, I told Dumbledore your desire to talk to Sirius, so he deemed it safer if you did it inside the castle's walls," Lupin reassured walking alongside Harry.
Harry visibly relaxed and walked the rest of the trail, talking animatedly with both Sirius and Lupin. Sometimes he glanced in Hermione's direction and she always had this dreamy expression, while clinging to the large box she had in her hands that seemed to soften her features. When Harry lost track of Sirius, it wasn't that hard to figure out where he had run off to, to count it had been five times Snape almost felt and was beginning to look suspiciously all around him. When they finally made it back to the castle, the students parted at the entrance, each one of them heading through the corridor that would lead them to their common room. Harry waved goodbye to Hermione and waited for the clatter of voices to calm down. "Let's go to my office," Lupin suggested and both Harry and Sirius followed. Professor Lupin had managed to return his office to its prior glory. Almost everything was the same as it had been years before. As soon as Lupin had cast a lock charm on his door, Sirius came from under the cloak.
"Ugh, it was beginning to smell in there," Sirius said with a smirk as he folded the cloak and placed it on Lupin's desk. Lupin rummaged around them as he prepared some tea. "So Harry," Sirius began patting the year in front of him, "what was it that you wanted to talk about?"
Harry cleared his throat a few times before he could answer. "Well, it's just that I don't know exactly what to do at the ball-"
"What, you don't know how to dance?" Sirius interrupted with a smirk on his lips.
"Is that your discreet way of asking about the Ballroom dancing classes?" Harry asked annoyed.
"I though it was rather obvious," Sirius continued as he shared a smile with Lupin.
"Okay, I am in ballroom dancing! Stop gloating!" Harry was almost shouting at Sirius who was laughing non-stop. Remus was trying to disguise his laugh with a cough.
"Why?" Sirius could barely talk between fits of laughter.
"Because of Hermione all right. I told her we should be in an activity together, and she chose dancing, so I couldn't do anything about it," Harry was beginning to get aggravated.
Sirius almost stopped laughing abruptly. "And you are actually going through with it?" he asked a little more amazement in his voice.
"Well, yeah, I'd do anything for her, I mean look at what she has gone through. If making a fool of myself on the dance floor is what it takes to make her day a little brighter, then I'll do it," Harry spoke with unknown vehemency.
Sirius seemed to calm himself down and stared with directly at Harry as Remus sat in the chair beside Sirius. "So what exactly is what you need?"
"Whatever you can tell me that would make the night unforgetable," Harry responded.
"This isn't your first date, right?" Remus asked lightly.
Harry's face immediately began to burn. "This isn't a date!" he expressed vigorously. "We are only going as friends."
"Of course," both Sirius and Remus answered doubtfully, sharing a rapid glance.
"But you've been to the Yule Ball last year," Sirius offered, changing the subject slightly. "I don't know why you are asking me this now."
"That wasn't a date," Harry answered rapidly, "and either way this is completely different. Parvati didn't enjoy herself very much, and I don't want to make the same terrible mistakes with Hermione...she is so special, she needs a special night."
Sirius gave a huge sigh before he answered. "Well Harry, the day has come, when you are mature enough to be given the knowledge of your forefathers," Sirius stared solemnly.
"Oh no," Remus groaned.
"Yes, Harry you are old enough to know about The Rules," Sirius continued, his tone somber.
"The what?" Harry had to ask; he didn't know what Sirius was talking about.
"The Rules Harry, are an ancient knowledge that will guide you when treating with girls," Sirius explained.
"Rather a few silly lines you and James created when you were fifteen," Remus scoffed.
"You will not insult The Rules in my presence," Sirius exclaimed with indignation.
"Fine! I'll wait until you've left the room then," Remus countered.
"Even you cannot deny the power of The Rules," Sirius responded eyeing Remus knowingly.
"Will you stop putting over emphasis on the words 'the rules'," Remus responded shakily, turning read.
"Now Harry, are you ready? You will have to promise to follow The Rules precisely to every detail, and I will assure you that Hermione will have the most unforgettable night in her life," Sirius exclaimed grandly.
Harry was still eyeing Sirius warily, up until now he still didn't know if Sirius, was serious.
It turned out he was talking with the truth, as the rest of the afternoon was passed with Sirius detailing one by one of the famous rules